Who We Are

by Nicola Haken

  His hand appeared on my face so fast it startled me a little, and he turned my head until my gaze met his. “You quit that bullshit right now. You’re not hurting anyone. If people hurt it’s because they love you. We love you and we care about you, and the only thing that should make you feel guilty is if you don’t let us do that. So, yes. You’re going to tell Tyler and you’re going to tell Rhys, and then we’re all going to get behind you and help you kick the shit out of whatever’s going on in that beautiful body of yours…because we’re your family, and that’s what families do.”

  I met his stare, looked into his big, brown, honest eyes…and I smiled. “I can’t believe I met you.”

  “I know, right? You’re a lucky son of a bitch.” Winking, he flashed that mischievous smirk he was such an expert at and it turned my insides to a pool of tingling mush.

  “I really am.”

  My pulse raced, my lips awaiting his touch as his face tipped a little closer…but as sod’s law would have it, the doorbell rang. I started to move, but Seb put his hand on my shoulder. “I’ll go. You’re supposed to be resting, remember?”

  With the ache in my back and the throb in my hip, I could hardly forget. “Yes, doctor.”

  “Ooo roleplay. I like it.”

  Sniggering, I shook my head as he walked away, and then I drew in a deep breath and blew it out slowly, wondering what the hell I would say to my brother. I heard him laughing in the hallway when Seb opened the door and I took a moment to cherish it, for I knew in a little while that sound would disappear for who knew how long.

  He strolled into the living room with his schoolbag slung over his shoulder, Sebastian trailing behind him, and his eyes narrowed a touch as they locked onto my face. “Why’d you look so crap? Thought you’d been on a date.” He tossed his bag on the floor next to the reclining armchair, picked Marv up off the seat and planted himself down, letting the cat sit on his lap instead. “And why are we stoppin’ here on a school night? I told Evan I’d meet him on the Xbox later init.”

  The couch dipped as Seb sat down next to me, and after a few seconds of silence he gave my knee a gentle squeeze of encouragement. “I’ve been to hospital today,” I blurted out on a rushed breath before I had chance to lose my courage. “For a bone marrow biopsy.”

  Tyler’s expression twisted, his neck snapping back. “W-what for? I don’t…I don’t understand.”

  “They’re testing it for blood cancers. Leukaemia.”

  “But, why? You don’t have cancer. You’re not old enough for cancer.”

  The pain on his face was unbearable to witness. I’d never seen such a deep ridge form between his brows, or him rub so angrily at his shaved head.

  “You know it doesn’t work like that, Ty.” I stood from the couch, biting my lip to suppress the groan of discomfort that wanted to escape, and made my way over to his chair, perching on the arm.

  I reached out to him, to hold him, comfort him, but he shrugged away from me. “You can’t have cancer. I…I don’t have anyone else.”

  “That’s not true, Ty, but even if it was I’m not going anywhere. I have no intention of leaving you.” I couldn’t guarantee that, and the thought made me feel sick with guilt, but…how else could I take his hurt away?

  “Yeah. Bet that’s what Mum said.” He jumped up from the chair, Marv scattering off his knee and darting across the room. “And look what happened there. I don’t even pissin’ remember her.”

  “Tyler…” I tried to pull him back as he stormed off but he was too fast. I heard his footsteps pound the stairs and my face fell into my hands, tears stinging the back of my eyes like grains of salt.

  Rising to my feet, I intended to follow him, but Seb appeared in front of me, placing his hands on my shoulders. “Give him a few minutes, then I’ll go. He’s just scared, Olli. He needs some time to process it, that’s all.” His hands slipped from my shoulders, down my arms, before snaking around my waist.

  He pulled my chest to his and I held onto him as if I might collapse and die right then and there if I didn’t. “I can’t do this. I just want it all to go away.”

  “Sure you can. My guy’s stronger than that. Besides, you didn’t gimme a receipt so I can’t trade you in for a fitter model now. So you have no choice but to get better or I’ll be pissed off.”

  Somehow, Seb always knew just what I needed, how to make me feel better, how to make me smile even when the world seemed bleak and hopeless. Tender and sweet, sarcastic and funny, he offered it all and at just the right moments. He made everything…lighter. Brighter. Easier. And I don’t think he even realised he was doing it, or how special he was.

  “Go sit back down,” he said, ordered even, his voice all firm and bossy. “I’ll go check on Ty.”

  Giving him a final squeeze, I rubbed our noses together before pressing my lips over his. “Thank you.” I kissed him once more. “For everything.”

  * * *

  I didn’t see Tyler again until the next morning. Seb had spoken to him the night before, and although he assured me Ty was doing okay he didn’t go into detail about what they discussed. I didn’t mind. I liked that Ty had someone to talk to, that he trusted Seb. I actually couldn’t have been prouder or happier at how close the two had become. They were the two most important people in my life, so to know they cared for and accepted each other was probably the best feeling in the world.

  It was taking me a little longer to get to know Scott, which was understandable because we didn’t see each other as often with him only visiting at weekends, but he was a great kid. I liked to think we could build up a relationship as close as Seb and Tyler seemed to be doing, eventually.

  “Oliver…” Tyler said my name quietly as he hovered by the kitchen door while I poured some cat biscuits into Marv’s bowl. The stupid cat tried to get at them, head-butting my hand and knocking them all over the floor, before I’d even finished filling his dish.

  “Morning. Did you-” I cut myself off as I straightened my back, wincing from the ache in my hip. The co-codamol I’d been sent home with were doing jack to ease the pain. “Did you sleep well?”

  “I’m sorry about last night,” he said, his gaze sweeping the floor as he ignored my question.

  “Don’t worry about it.” Putting the cat biscuits on the counter, I walked over to Ty and clapped his shoulder. “I just want you to be okay. Forget about last night.”

  “No, it was wrong. I was just shocked. Still am. But I still think you’re gonna be okay. I mean, I don’t really know anything about what Mum ‘ad, but you might not ‘ave that. And even if you do that was years ago and scientists and doctors are cleverer and stuff now, right?”

  I smiled, just a little. “Right.”

  Tyler nodded, almost like he was trying to convince himself. “Well, I promise I won’t react like that again. Swear down. You can count on me. I’m glad you told me.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Course I am. I’m not a kid no more, Olli. I want you to know I can be there for you too init.”

  “Come ‘ere.” I didn’t care if he didn’t want one, I folded my arms around him and I hugged him close. “I love you, Ty, and I’m really bloody proud of you.”

  To my surprise, he hugged me right back, his fingers clamping tightly to the back of my shirt. We lingered in that position for a few, silent seconds, before he forced a cough and pulled back. “Yeah. Me too init.”

  “What do you want for breakfast?” I asked, turning the conversation to something more ordinary before the poor guy passed out from awkwardness.

  “Nowt. I’ll grab a bacon butty from the tuck shop at school.”

  “You better get a move on then. The bus leaves earlier from here.”

  “Yeah, I’m on it,” he said, spinning on his heels. “Later, fam.”

  And then I was alone, well, apart from Marv. Seb, albeit reluctantly, left for work an hour ago, so today marked my first day of waiting. Waiting and worrying, and hoping the pain and stiffness in my hip
would piss off soon. While I did that, I needed to phone the salon, though I hadn’t decided how honest I planned to be yet…and call Rhys. I wasn’t looking forward to that conversation, or to the impending visit that would inevitably follow.

  * * *

  Four days later…

  This was it. I got the call this morning asking me to come into the hospital. If the lady on the phone – a nurse, or a receptionist, I hadn’t paid as much attention as I should have – knew my results then she didn’t let it show in her voice. So now Seb and I were outside my haematologist’s office waiting to be called in, and neither one of us had breathed a single word since we’d arrived.

  “Oliver?” A small smile on Doctor Sullivan’s face accompanied my name as the heavy door creaked open and I wondered if I should read anything into it as I got up and walked towards him. Was it a good news smile? Or simply a polite smile? Maybe it was a sympathetic smile. “How are you?”

  “Okay, thanks,” I responded automatically, despite being further from okay than I’d ever been in my life. I sat down in one of the chairs, opposite the cheap-looking desk, and Seb took a seat next to me. “Nervous, obviously.”

  Doctor Sullivan lowered himself into his leather swivel chair, clasping his hands together on top of the table, and looked right into my eyes. Then, using the gentlest voice I think I’d ever heard, he said, “I’m sorry, Oliver. It’s not good news.”

  Chapter Seven

  ~Oliver~

  ACUTE MYELOID LEUKAEMIA. Those were the three words that had just turned my whole world upside down. Weirdly, they didn’t hit me like I thought they would. I didn’t break down or crumble. I didn’t react much at all, really. Overall I felt relatively calm. Numb, perhaps. In fact, the thing I remember the most is the sound of Seb’s breath leaving him when the words left the doctor’s mouth. It was long and stuttered. It filled the room as he reached for my hand, squeezing all his pain into it.

  Placing my other hand on top of Seb’s, it made a small stack of intertwined fingers on top of my lap. “Can you cure it?” I asked.

  “We’re going to do our very best, but there are no guarantees.”

  Honesty. It was brutal, and devastating, but I needed it.

  “I’d like to admit you today, ready to begin your first round of chemotherapy tomorrow.”

  “That soon?” Seb interrupted, the words breaking on his lips.

  “AML is an aggressive form of cancer. We need to act as quickly as possible.”

  “Right. I see. Sorry,” Seb mumbled, looking flustered, maybe even a little embarrassed…definitely worried sick.

  “Please, don’t apologise. There are no stupid questions. There are no unimportant or useless questions. I’m here to answer anything and everything you want to know. That goes for both of you.”

  “Tomorrow,” I repeated, to myself more than anyone else as my brain tried to process what it was hearing.

  “Oliver?” My name rolled gently from Doctor Sullivan’s lips. “Are you ready for me to explain a few things, or would you like a little time?”

  “Go ahead,” I think I said. Or I could have just nodded. I can’t quite remember.

  “Okay, well the first stage of treatment is called induction chemotherapy. That’s where we’ll try and eradicate as many of the cancerous cells as we can. How many of these cycles you’ll need will depend on how well your body reacts to it. We’ll re-evaluate after each round has been completed. Initially, I’d like to begin with a ten-day cycle followed by a three-week break.

  “The aim is to destroy the leukaemia, and once we’ve achieved that we’ll move on to consolidation chemo, which is a further cycle to kill any remaining cells that can’t be seen, and reduce the chances of the cancer returning. At this point we’ll assess you for any red flags and markers which will determine whether a stem cell transplant will be necessary.”

  “And what…” I trailed off, either forgetting, or not even knowing what I planned to ask in the first place.

  “It’s a lot to take in. You’ll have a team of people you can ask questions to at any time. You don’t need to get them all out now.”

  I nodded slowly, trying to absorb even a little of what he’d said. “Will I be able to go home at all?” I knew my mum didn’t spend much time at home, but she didn’t have the same kind of leukaemia as I did. I wasn’t sure if that made a difference. I’d ask him that later, I decided, along with the thousand other questions burning a hole in my head.

  “Possibly. Given your subtype of AML, the two drugs I plan to use are daunorubicin and cytarabine, which are extremely powerful. The daunorubicin particularly, I wouldn’t be using if you weren’t in such good general health. You’re young. Fit. I think you’re strong enough to withstand it.”

  Jesus. How could words of reassurance sound so terrifying?

  “As well as, hopefully, killing the cancerous cells in your blood,” Doctor Sullivan continued. “They’ll also completely wipe out your immune system. You’re going to be vulnerable to infections, and your body won’t be capable of handling simple germs and viruses like it used to. We’ll monitor your neutrophils, which are a type of white blood cell needed to fight infection, while you’re here, and for as long as your neutrophil count is low it really is best to stay in the sterile environment of the hospital.”

  “O-okay.” I nodded again. I didn’t particularly like the idea, but I’d do it. I’d do whatever he said. I didn’t have to like the next few months, I just had to survive them. I had to fight, and I would.

  We stayed in his office for around an hour. He guided me through my treatment plan in more detail, discussed my diagnosis further, told me what I could expect over the next few months. He asked if I’d agree to a blood transfusion, given that my red blood count had tanked, and as that was likely behind the exhaustion I agreed right away. Finally, he explained my care team to me, and I managed to unscramble some of the questions in my head enough to ask them. I wondered if I’d got sick because of my mother, but apparently there isn’t a direct hereditary link…although having a close relative, such as a parent, with leukaemia may increase your risk, which I found a little confusing and contradictory.

  He also informed me that AML was typically seen in older patients, which possibly contributed to the dismal statistics and mortality rates that frightened the crap out of me, and that diagnoses in patients my age were somewhat rare. Go me, being unique. Guess I always did have a side of me that liked to stand out from the crowd, easily brought to life by a quality wig and a pair of killer heels. Shouldn’t be too much of a surprise that even my cancer liked to be special too.

  Still, on the positive side, because I had to find one, my ‘rare’ age gave me a better chance of fighting this thing. And so, as I left Doctor Sullivan’s office to go home and pack my stuff, I was confused, scared, unsure of absolutely everything. But I knew one thing for certain…

  This bastard cancer had chosen the wrong body, and I was going to beat it.

  There was lots more to do than simply pack a bag when I got home. I had arrangements to make, plans to put in place. First, I called my GP surgery to ask for a sick note for work so I could claim statutory sick pay. It wouldn’t be as much as my wages, but I’d need all the money I could get. Next, I had to phone the salon, which led to lots of gasps, and then tears on Claire’s side. I appreciated her concern but I was silently relieved when the call came to an end. I had to keep emotion out of things right now, otherwise I’d have fallen apart and I couldn’t afford to do that. I had to be strong for Tyler, for Sebastian, for Rhys…who was the person I called next.

  He tried to keep it together, joked about turning up at the hospital in his nurse’s outfit – which I wouldn’t have put past him - but I could hear the rawness in his voice, the crack in his words when he agreed to let Gary know I’d need to cancel all of Miss Tique’s performances, and my bar shifts, for the foreseeable future. It broke my heart.

  Finally, before I could phone the school to let them know th
e situation and what would be happening with Tyler, I needed to actually discuss Tyler with Seb. He may have suggested taking care of him before, but that could’ve been in haste, a rash decision clouded by emotion while he still had hope everything would be okay.

  “I told you he could stay with me.” He sounded almost exasperated as he knotted his fingers together, sitting forward on the couch. “There’s nothing to discuss.”

  “Sebastian…” I shuffled forward in my seat, mirroring his position, and placed my hand on his knee. “Of course there is. We don’t know how long I’ll be in hospital for, and…and I have to think of what will happen if the treatment doesn’t work.”

  Would I need to look for Tyler’s father? I wouldn’t have known where to start. The only things I knew about him were his first name and that, sixteen years ago, he drove a Toyota Corolla.

  “Stop. Just…stop it.” His body tensed and his head dropped, his gaze staring down at the floor. “Of course it’ll work.”

  “I believe that, really I do. But I have to think about the what-ifs. Whatever happens, I need to know Ty will be okay, but I also need you to know that I don’t expect that responsibility to fall on you. I’d never want you to offer or agree to anything out of loyalty to me, or because he doesn’t have anyone else. That’s not fair on either of you.”

  His neck craned a little, his jaw tightening as he turned his face to look at me with an expression that looked almost hurt, offended even. “Yes, I’m offering because he has no one else, but also because I fucking love that kid. I’d do anything for either of you. I can’t believe you don’t know that by now.”

  “You’re angry with me,” I noted, shrinking back a little, guilt swimming in my stomach.

  Sighing, his stiff shoulders dropped. “No, Oliver. I’m not angry. It’s just…shit, I’m sorry,” he said, taking my hand and holding it close to his chest.